prayer and the scene of the darkness in 'Moïse,' as well as the first movement and the unaccompanied quartet in the Stabat, will always hold their place as religious music; and are oF themselves sufficient to show that Rossini, sceptic as he was, was not without religious feeling.
But no triumphs from without or gratifications from within can shield us from physical ills. At the very moment that the Stabat was making its triumphant progress round the world, Rossini began to suffer tortures from the stone, which increased to such an extent as to force him in May 1843, to Paris, where he underwent an operation which proved perfectly satisfactory. We next find him writing a chorus to words by Marchetti for the anniversary festival of Tasso at Turin, on March 13, 1844. On the 2nd of the following September 'Othello' was produced in French at the Académie with Duprez, Barroilhet, Levasseur, and Mme. Stoltz. Rossini however had nothing to do with this adaptation, and the divertissement was arranged entirely by Benoist from airs in 'Mathilde de Sabran' and 'Armida.' Two interpolations in the body of the piece—the cavatina from 'L'Italiana in Algeri' in the part of Desdemona, and an air from the 'Donna del Lago' in that of Iago—were neither appropriate nor satisfactory. While 'Othello' was thus on the boards of the opera, Troupenas brought out 'La Foi, l'Espérance et la Charité' (Faith, Hope, and Charity), three choruses for women's voices, the two first composed many years previously for an opera on the subject of Œdipus [App. p.776 "add that the three choruses for female voices here referred to are stated by Mr. Louis Engel to be spurious. In his 'From Mozart to Mario' he says that the composer denied their authenticity"]. These choruses are hardly worthy of Rossini. They justify Berlioz's sarcasm—'his Hope has deceived ours; his Faith will never remove mountains; his Charity will never ruin him.' Troupenas also brought out a few songs hitherto unpublished, and these reattracted the attention of the public in some degree to the great composer. His statue was executed in marble[1] by Etex, and was inaugurated at the Acadeémie de Musique, June 9, 1846. A few months later (Dec. 30), by his permission, a pasticcio adapted by Niedermeyer to portions of the 'Donna del Lago,' 'Zelmira,' and 'Arrnida,' and entitled 'Robert Bruce,' was put on the stage of the Opera, but it was not successful, and Mme. Stoltz was even hissed. From his seclusion at Bologna Rossini kept a watchful eye upon the movements of the musical world. It would be interesting to know if he regretted having authorised the manufacture of this pasticcio. If we may judge from the very great difficulty with which some time later Méry obtained his permission to translate 'Semiramide' and produce it on the French stage (July 9, 1860), he did. It is certain that during his long residence at Bologna he only broke his vow of silence for the 'Inno popolare a Pio IX.' The commencement of this was adapted to an air from 'La Donna del Lago,' and its peroration was borrowed from 'Robert Bruce,' which gives ground for supposing that he himself was concerned in the arrangement of that opera, and explains his annoyance at its failure.
The political disturbances which agitated the Romagna at the end of 1847 compelled Rossini to leave Bologna. He quitted the town in much irritation. His turn for speculation, and his farming the fisheries, in order, as he said, that he might always have fresh fish, had given much offence. After the death of his wife (Oct. 7, 1845), he married (in 1847) Olympe Pelissier, with whom he had become connected in Paris at a time when she was greatly in public favour, and when she sat to Vernet for his picture of Judith and Holofernes. In fact at this time the great musician had to a great extent disappeared in the voluptuary. From Bologna he removed to Florence, and there it was that this writer visited him in 1852. He lived in the Via Larga, in a house which bore upon its front the words Ad votum. In the course of a long conversation he spoke of his works with no pretended indifference, but as being well aware of their worth, and knowing the force and scope of his genius better than any one else. He made no secret of his dislike to the violent antivocal element in modern music, or of the pleasure he would feel when 'the Jews had finished their Sabbath.' It was also evident that he had no affection for the capital of Tuscany, the climate of which did not suit him.
At length, in 1855, he crossed the Alps and returned to Paris, never again to leave it. His reception there went far to calm the nervous irritability that had tormented him at Florence, and with the homage which he received from Auber and the rest of the French artists his health returned. His house, No. 2 in the Rue Chaussée d'Antin, and at a later date his villa at Passy, were crowded by the most illustrious representatives of literature and art, to such an extent that even during his lifetime he seemed to assist at his own apotheosis. Was it then mere idleness which made him thus bury himself in the Capua of his past successes? No one who, like the present writer, observed him coolly, could be taken in by the comedy of indifference and modesty that it pleased him to keep up. We have already said that, after Meyerbeer's great success, Rossini had taken the resolution of writing no more for the Académie de Musique and keeping silence.
The latter part of this resolution he did not however fully maintain. Thus he authorised the production of 'Bruschino' at the Bouffes Parisiens on Dec. 28, 1857, though he would not be present at the first representation. 'I have given my permission,' said he, 'but do not ask me to be an accomplice.' The discovery of the piece—which is nothing else but his early farce of 'Il figlio per azzardo' (Venice, 1813) was due to Prince Poniatowski, and some clever Librettist was found to adapt it to the French taste. A year or two later Méry with difficulty obtained his permission to transform 'Semiramide' into 'Sémiramis,' and the opera in its new garb was produced at the Académie July 9, 1860, with Carlotta Marchisio as Semiramis,
- ↑ It represented him seated in an easy attitude. It was destroyed when the opera-house was burnt down in 1873.
